The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Though the war has officially ended, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society shows that for the people who survived it, the trauma and pain have been too cruel and destructive to leave in the past. For them, the war goes on within their bodies and minds. Though most of the characters experienced trauma, none exemplify the persisting effects of the war more than the character of Remy Giraud. Remy was sent to a concentration camp at Ravensbrück, where she experienced starvation and witnessed beatings, torture, and executions. Shaffer and Barrows demonstrate the way Remy’s experiences in Ravensbrück haunt her when she encounters a dog in Guernsey that resembles the ones used by German soldiers to scare the woman at the concentration camp. The dog triggers not merely a memory, but a visceral re-experiencing of traumatic events: “an awful gulping gasp: a deep gagging that went on and on. I [Juliet] can’t describe it. I turned and saw that it was Remy; she was bent over almost double and vomiting. Dawsey had caught her and was holding her as she kept vomiting, deep spasms of it, over both of them” (264). The reaction may seem somewhat misplaced, as the context of this encounter is vastly different from Remy’s memory of the concentration camp. But such is the power of her trauma, and while Dawsey and Juliet and the other Society members might be sympathetic toward Remy’s situation, her experience can only truly be understood by those who withstood the trauma with her. The authors, therefore, highlight how, for those who experienced the horrors of warfare, the official end of war seldom ends the suffering of the people who lived through it.

In line with dismissive perspectives on mental illness during the 1940s, acknowledging the ongoing personal devastation was commonly seen as selfish after the war ended: “‘Let’s put everything behind us’ seems to be France’s cry. ‘Everything—the war, the Vichy, the Milice, Drancy, the Jews—it’s all over now. After all, everyone suffered, not just you’” (260). The push to move on and not confront the trauma of the war is one even Remy seemingly endorses, as she fixates on reintegrating into society as a baker’s apprentice once she leaves medical care. But since Remy shows signs of what would now be diagnosed as post-traumatic stress disorder, the authors suggest that delving into new ambitions—while admirable after such hardships—is not necessarily a sign of progress or healing.

Another way the authors express the persistence of the effects of war is through the landscapes that were transformed by it. In Guernsey, the most notable disturbance the war has caused to the island landscape is the fortifications constructed by the German army. As outlined in the historical context of this guide, the army used enslaved workers to create the Atlantic Wall, often working them to an early death. The horror of the Todt workers’ conditions permanently altered the island, as Amelia notes to Juliet: “This summer, gorse will begin to grow around the fortifications, and by next year, perhaps vines will creep over them. I hope they are soon covered. For all I can look away, I will never be able to forget how they were made” (115). Though time will be able to scar over the damage caused to the island by way of natural regrowth, the authors underline how even so strong a force as time cannot fully heal the wounds caused by WWII. Similarly, while the people of Guernsey find ways to carry on with their lives in the wake of the Occupation, the wounds the war inflicted on their relationships are slow to heal. Adelaide’s attempts to smear those she believes collaborated with the Germans during the war, even after they have died, demonstrates that the damage the war did to Guernsey’s communities—psychological, physical, and relational—will last a long time.